


Deterrence

by meat



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Body Worship, Conditioning, Consensual, Dom/sub Undertones, Humiliation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 00:33:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7198097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meat/pseuds/meat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I still see it in you, Overlord. The flickers of sick, twisted ideology that beg to be turned to a full flame. Will you ever allow it to be fully snuffed? Or,” Megatron pressed his own lips to one dark audial. “Shall I extinguish it for you?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deterrence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Decepticrazy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decepticrazy/gifts).



Megatron twisted the short lead that he held. He wasn’t deterred by the small noise that followed- even though it wasn’t nearly what he had expected. He knew to expect this kind of reaction. He _knew_ , and yet, he was still disappointed. With a sigh of exasperation, the warlord brought his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“We’ve yet to even start, Overlord.”

It didn’t deter his charge in the slightest- he knew that it wouldn’t. Overlord writhed on his lead, smirking at the slightest attention. Megatron knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Overlord would already be relieving himself of his so-to-speak ‘burden’ if not for Megatron’s strict instructions against just that. Strict- that was the only way to define it. Not cruel, not even really harsh. Overlord could wish for more all that he wanted, but Megatron was never one for handouts.

Overlord visibly fought with himself on whether or not to reply. His smirk grew into a sharp-toothed grin, optics fluttering offline. Eagerness was written on him so plainly that a blind mech could have sensed it. There was no point in harming him physically. Beaten, slapped, kicked, even shot- Overlord would have brushed it off with a smile. He was happy to take whatever his Lord had to offer him- even if that meant waiting for the delivery.

Megatron grunted, shoving himself up. Overlord scrambled for a second as he was pulled along, though his grin remained even as his optics came back online. He was grateful, so grateful to even be deigned worthy of this small amount of attention. So, so grateful. Let him show you how grateful he was- his eyes seemed to beg this as he focused on Megatron. He followed, low to the ground in a show of rightful submission, even as they passed into an occupied hallway outside of their secluded room. All eyes were on and then immediately off of them- the brief onlookers knew better than to stare. There were mechs who would have gladly taken Overlord’s place, though the majority was made up of those simply looking to avoid angering their Lord.

Finally, they reached their destination as Overlord was swiftly yanked into the room and nearly hit by the closing door. He looked dreamily at Megatron’s face as the lead was unclipped, leaving him in the thick posture collar he’d been tasked with. It would be a blatant lie to say that this was as much a punishment as it was a reward; the only way Megatron could truly punish Overlord would be to ignore him. The sting of physical defeat was a harsh one, but it wasn’t enough to deter him just yet. After all- Overlord had earned this.

“You’re pathetic. Do you see yourself? Shaking like a scared protoform and you haven’t even been _touched_ ,” The brutal emphasis on Megatron’s final word left Overlord shivering. “Are you not ashamed? Or do you need yet another example to accomplish that, too?”

Overlord moaned, setting his optics offline once more. He shook, curling in on himself slightly as the cold floor beneath him did nothing to help. He could overload, just like this. Without being touched. He could, and probably would, just like this.

“No, Lord Megatron.”

A hand gripped his collar, shoving him downwards as soon as he’d spoken. Thick, soft lips, those which invoked images of both Caligula and much less noteworthy human models, pressed against the filthy ground. The energon that trickled from his nose pooled beneath them, a result of the sudden impact. The hand that held him there was unmovable- not that he would have wanted it to move, anyways.

“You dare,” Megatron ground his face down harder. “To be so blunt, Overlord? Animals have better sense than you. You should take note. Perhaps you might learn, finally, your place among your fellow Decepticons.”

Overlord radiated heat. He shivered, harder, as attempts not to buck against Megatron quickly failed. It was an upwards struggle to the hill he had chosen to die on: the one on which Megatron would finally, really, reward him with his attention. He didn’t ask for- nor did he expect- affection. It was unrealistic among mechs such as them and times such as these. Overlord could fantasize about his Lord claiming him for his own, marking him as property to be used as frequently as he desired (and, it felt necessary to mention, this was always quite frequently within his fantasies)- but they were always just that.

Until fantasy met reality in some form of compromise, Overlord was here.

“Have you any idea what you’re good for, Overlord? I should say ‘entertainment’, but you regularly fail at that. So many failures on your part as of late. Or perhaps you simply have a track record that predates even our earliest interactions, hmm?” Overlord writhed as much as their positions would allow. “Do you remember that? So long ago, when you still suffered under the delusion that you could ever defeat me?” A muffled, whorish moan left his lips. Megatron did not lower himself to Overlord’s level, instead tilting his lesser’s helm slightly and turning his voice to a whisper.

“I still see it in you, Overlord. The flickers of sick, twisted ideology that beg to be turned to a full flame. Will you ever allow it to be fully snuffed? Or,” Megatron pressed his own lips to one dark audial. “Shall I extinguish it for you?”

His overload was not subtle. There was an unspoken air of presumption among them that kept Megatron from reacting initially beyond a sneer, and that kept Overlord from spewing apologies as soon as transfluid streaked the floor. Megatron backed away from Overlord. He released him to fall against the floor, close to yet not quite touching his own puddle of blood and spill.

“You are seemingly fitting for one thing, Overlord. Tell me- what do you think that is?”

Silence.

“No? Allow me a demonstration.”

One of Megatron’s massive, battle-worn pedes knocked the side of Overlord’s helm until he was forced to acknowledge it. Red optics slid online in synchronization with thick lips sliding apart. Both were trained actions to something he had done many, many time before, and would undoubtedly do many times again before he was separated from his benevolent Lord.

As Overlord showering the pede before him in countless affections, Megatron did not smirk. He remained as stony as he had been throughout Overlord’s reward session, simply watching as his overeager subordinate went one step beyond worshipping the ground he walked on. This was where he belonged. This was where he was destined to be. Until the forces of the universe so chose to change it, Overlord’s place would always be here- a mech so desperate for approval that he thanked Primus at the chance to worship a false idol.

**Author's Note:**

> $5 flash commission for decepticrazy.  
> Please check my profile for information on $5 for 1000 words flash commissions.


End file.
